Romance History Novels & Stories

As if he were rediscovering me pulse by pulse. I sank into the kiss, my fingers digging into his shirt as if he might vanish if I let him go. The kiss grew deeper, but it wasn’t urgent. It was aching, filled with all the things we’d never said. With all the years of regret. With all the years of love that never went away. When we broke apart, we were still close, breathing each other in. “You still feel the same,” I whispered. “So do you,” he said. He traced his thumb along my cheek, wiping away a tear I hadn’t even known was falling. The gentleness of the gesture was my undoing.

" In the backseat, Stacy listened in on all this in sullen silence. Apparently, Joseph was the sort of guy who made countless romantic gestures for the girl he liked, and never missed even the tiniest details. In the rearview mirror, she could see that his ears had gone red. Charlotte was bringing up stories from ages ago… did he still feel so strongly about those moments, even now? But then again, this was his first love, innocent and pure. They arrived at a pub, and Stacy found herself a hiding place in the corner. Meanwhile, Joseph took a seat beside Charlotte, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. He shrugged off his jacket and handed it to her, so she could use it as a

It was Helen, staring at his face. A knot tightened in my stomach as I approached them. "Excuse me, but it seems you have an unrequited interest in my husband," I said, lowering my phone. She turned to me and smiled, wearing that annoying poker face of hers. "You might see it that way, but you know, Rachel, we have a long history," she said in a tone that made me want to wipe that smirk off her face. I should be focused on figuring out what their history is so I can use it against Leo, but why do I feel so uncomfortable?

And I’ll be glad to offer it. The pages are off white that have gotten darker due to age. They looked almost brown now. The writing wasn’t in English, which was expected. I opened it to the first page. It was blank. Or at least, that is what I first thought. Then I saw the signature scribbled at the bottom of the page with two simple words. ‘Your love.’ Daciana called this a history book? It seems more like romance to me than anything. I haven’t opened the inside to see the contents. But it didn’t make sense that anyone would give their lover a history book. That just seems sadistic in my opinion.

In Argentina, the love between Emiliano Romero, and Maria De La Cruz, bloomed like the September equinox. They finished their weekend, full of energy, and many revolutionized hormones. She was in love with his intelligence, when they talked about medicine she loved to listen to him, she was impressed by so much knowledge. He was falling in love with the simplicity of her soul, her heart and her longing for history.

It's either history, military, or supernatural romances. I've never understood why so many people preferred such kinds of novels and genres all that much. Though, I meant that for the latter part. They're basically the same every single time. An average lady meets one sexy, handsome, extraordinary man, or two hot males battle over her, and there's usually some ridiculous drama that brings her further and deeper together with the men, and then she has to choose the obvious decision. Everyone had predicted her decision since the very beginning of the chapter. "And they're usually sequels or fantasy epics," I mumbled to myself.

Or that they at least, got the wrong impression of her. “They think I don’t like romance?” She asked like there was someone else in the room with her. “Well, I bet they’ve never even messed around with any guy before. They’ve probably never even gotten kissed by a hot guy before and I’m the unromantic one?” “Otherwise they wouldn’t shut up about it. I would have heard stories about it”. “I’ll show them both that I’m not what they think of me”. “I’ll find a hot guy, make out with him and have sex with him”.

Love is never an easy thing. The beautiful tale of a princess and a prince living happily ever after is nothing more than a bedtime story. In reality, it's not as simple as expressing one's feelings and everything falling into place with joy. No, it's never that easy. Velia and Lucas have proven that. They were bound by a past that constantly tried to separate them. Resentment was deeply rooted in their hearts, ingrained in every breath they took, intertwining with their journey through life.

A sharp bell rang out, echoing through the night. A shrill voice announced, "The time has come. Let the bride enter!" A black carriage, lavishly decorated yet unsettling, rolled in slowly. The door opened, and a bride in a blood-stained wedding dress stepped out gracefully. "Where's my groom?" George hurried over, waving for the puppets to drag me away. He pointed at the players seated at a long table. "My lady, please take a look. Which one do you favor?" The bride lifted her veil. Blood slid down her face like melting wax. Her crimson eyes swept across the crowd. "I'm not satisfied with any of them. Not a single one looks pleasing."

“I haven’t even met him.” “Exactly!” she shouted. “That’s worse! Falling for someone you’ve never seen is peak disaster energy.” “I’m not falling for anyone.” “Good.” She pointed at me again. “Because emotional damage is expensive. And I know you. You fall for men with mystery, danger, and cheekbones sharp enough to stab you.” “I do not!” “You SO do.” Mira narrowed her eyes. “And this man sounds like he invented cheekbones.” I let out a breath and slung my bag over my shoulder. “I’ll be okay. I promise.”